


How Far We Fall

by Stress_and_Starker



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Peter Parker, Drama, Hate Sex, It's going to get worse before it gets better, Love/Hate, M/M, Minor Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Tony Stark, Rivals, Social Media, Villain Peter Parker, not everyone can be saved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-03
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-07-06 10:46:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15884487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stress_and_Starker/pseuds/Stress_and_Starker
Summary: The only thing worse than meeting his hero turned out to be that he would memorize that pitying scrunch of Tony’s features that would haunt him for weeks afterward. Peter wouldn’t be a hero, not if Mr. Stark had anything to say about it.‘I don’t want to be like you,’ Peter thought, viciously. ‘I’ll be better than you ever were and you won’t be laughing at me anymore.’





	How Far We Fall

**Author's Note:**

> Huge shout out to everyone that made me realize that Villain Peter Parker was something I needed in my life. Hope you enjoy and as always, please do not read if this pairing or subject matter isn't your thing. This is being posted without a beta, but I will try to make sure there are as little typos as possible - stay with me!

Peter Parker fell in love with Iron Man the very first time he saw him.

He was seven years old following along after Aunt May, his tiny hand curled in hers as they crossed the crowded sidewalk. He was distracted, they’d just passed that bakery that sold his favorite iced donuts and he had to try very, very hard to concentrate on the road ahead instead of begging to go inside. 

Two days ago, Uncle Ben had sat him down in the thinking chair and explained that sometimes it was best to keep the things he wanted a secret. That way they could be surprises from Santa, or blessings when he didn’t know to expect anything. He couldn’t be like other children ,throwing tantrums and crying when his best friend, Ned Leeds, had four times as many LEGOs as Peter did, and he didn’t want to share that day.

Peter despised the thinking chair, but he looked up at his Uncle with wide, solemn eyes and nodded in understanding.

He was seven years old, but he wasn’t a  _ child _ . He knew that his Aunt stayed up crying when they couldn’t afford to get him any presents for Christmas. He didn’t know what ‘debt’ was as a tangible thing, so he just thought of it as something that happened when your brother or sister was murdered and you ended up raising a child that wasn’t your own.

So, when they passed the bakery at the corner of 68th and Main, Peter looked away.

He saw it then. In between a sea of adults crowded around a TV sitting in a window, a streak of red and gold flew past a camera so quickly, he wasn’t even sure it was there to begin with. The film was grainy and old, but eventually it zeroed in on the figure looping around in the sky. 

It was too much for him to take in, the reality of what he was seeing. He cared little for the meaningless headlines flashing across the screen.

_ ‘Merchant of Death, Tony Stark creates combat-ready war suit.’ _

_ ‘Modern Warfare? How far is too far?’ _

_ ‘Billionaire returns from Afghanistan, statement to be given at….’ _

There was chaos and fear in the air around him, but Peter was seven years old and he stretched his little fingers towards the glass as soon as the red and gold figure reappeared on the screen. The sun was glinting off the metal in ways that Peter had only seen in the old movies that played on the same ten channels and it was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

_ I want to be like that, someday.  _

\----------------- 

From that moment on, Peter had been lost. He followed Tony Stark’s career faithfully, devouring every video, newspaper, and piece of gossip he could come across. While other ten year olds collected posters of their favorite boy bands and other unreachable celebrities, Peter had scraps of torn paper and notes stuck to his walls with scotch tape (and sometimes glue). 

Living in Queens seemed at times like living outside the world around them. Growing up, Peter’s household was the only one he knew of without a trace of Stark technology in the building. At school, he could see the phones, tablets, or watches that other students would parade around. On TV, he could listen to Mr. Stark championing his ideas.

Slowly but surely, Peter worked his way up from admiring to designing.

When he was eleven years old, he crawled into the dumpster behind the run-down food center and sifted through rotting garbage and holey socks until he was sick with the smell seeping into his skin. The recycling center was the largest one in the neighborhood, and every Wednesday trucks from all over would deposit their hauls here to be taken away.

He didn’t find much the first time. An old monitor and a few wires that connected at both ends, but otherwise seemed to hold no purpose.

Peter went every Wednesday for the next three and a half years. His hauls improved and sometimes he even knew what he was looking at before he picked it up and took it home so he could shock himself with it until he finally understood what it did. 

He believed with everything he had that if he just kept learning, kept trying...if he wanted it badly enough one day he would be smart enough to make a difference just like Tony Stark.

\--------------------

When Peter was fifteen, he walked into their rundown apartment and came face to face with his idol. He was still getting used to the new powers brought on by the mutant spider. He liked to drown out the extra noise as often as possible, so it was the odd scent of a man’s cologne that he noticed first.

There was Tony Stark.  _ Tony freaking Stark _ in his living room with his perfectly sculpted everything in his perfectly fitted suit waiting to meet Peter and he was one hundred percent positive that he having a nightmare where his Aunt was about to hook up with his hero. 

Because she wanted to. Her eyes were wide and she was slightly breathless and Peter was only fifteen, but he wasn’t an idiot. He slipped his headphones out one by one wondering if life could really be this cruel. 

Then Tony Stark was standing in his room and he was trying very hard not to throw up from the whiplash and confusion. At the very least he knew that he wasn’t dreaming anymore. If this were a dream and he was about to get fucked by Mr. Stark, May would absolutely not be sitting in the next room watching her soaps. 

Well...maybe.

He would have much preferred that scenario to the one that was currently unfolding in front of him. The one where Tony Stark was holding his ripped suit and laughing hysterically at his goggles. 

“Kid...this,” Tony was still chuckling as Peter sputtered defenses for his getup. Not everyone had billions of dollars to fund their projects, but Tony was standing in front of him, arrogant and amused at his expense. “This. You’ve got it all wrong.”

Peter crossed his arms, still on alert. “It’s Spiderman,” He put extra emphasis on the ‘man’ aspect, drawing himself up to his full height. Which wasn’t much, but Tony already knew that there was more to him than met the eye.

“No, you see, that’s the thing,” Tony’s eyes were sharp and focused in seconds. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but Peter desperately wished he would. He dealt with rejection often enough, he knew what it looked like. “You’re not. You’re a twelve year old - and if you have to correct me on the age thing you know you’ve already lost. Look, your Aunt says you’re bright. Go to college. Live a little before you throw your life away on all of this. Save yourself first.”

“Mr. Stark, please. I have these powers. It’s my responsibility.”

The only thing worse than meeting his hero turned out to be that he would memorize that pitying scrunch of Tony’s features that would haunt him for weeks afterward. Peter wouldn’t be a hero, not if Mr. Stark had anything to say about it.

More importantly, Peter would never get within a thousand feet of a Stark Internship. He didn’t want to tempt Peter with that life. 

Peter opened his mouth to speak the words stuck in his throat, but he was choking. Drowning, and Mr. Stark had already given a satisfied nod of his head. He turned away and left with a smile and a wave to his Aunt. He left so quickly he would never see the tears forming in Peter’s eyes. No matter how hard he tried to blink it back, his hands shook and he crumpled on the stained floor of his childhood bedroom and wept.

\------------------

He never stopped being Spiderman. How could he? Every time he came in he was more beaten and bruised than before. Aunt May knew something was wrong, but Peter’s lips thinned to something nonexistent and he dutifully refused to tell her about his extracurricular activities.

Spiderman was appearing in the daily news now. He was a local hero. 

Against his better judgement, Peter sat atop of some of New York’s tallest buildings and waited for news articles from his exploits to hit the internet. The people loved him, which was a lot more than they had to say about the Avengers these days. 

Dark eyes rewatched one of the newest videos circling YouTube. Iron Man getting blasted from the sky by some sort of sonic projectile over and over again on a loop. There was no sound, but he could imagine the crunch of metal when Tony hit the pavement fifty feet below. He knew Tony was mostly unhurt, but he couldn’t help but lean into the video, hand clenched so tightly around his phone he could hear it start to give way. 

_ ‘I don’t want to be like you,’  _ He thought, viciously.  _ ‘I’ll be better than you ever were and you won’t be laughing at me anymore.’ _

\---------------------

The morning of the event was an ordinary day. Peter pretended to eat his breakfast, pushing the mush of potato and egg around his plate while May watched him behind her cup of coffee and pretended she believed he was alright.

“Whatever this is, you don’t have to handle it alone. I’m here for you.” She said, her voice so quiet Peter had to strain to make sense of it even with his sensitive hearing. Peter made the mistake of looking up, then, because May was out of her chair in a screech of metal against wood, her arms wrapped around him tightly. “I’m here for you. Always, I promise.” 

_ This is weird _ , Peter thought, wondering what May could have seen in his expression that would provoke this kind of response.

Peter was lonely, but before Tony Stark came in and ruined everything, he hadn’t felt alone. At school he was bullied, and then afterwards Peter would patrol Queens and the surrounding areas where he would sometimes stop a thug or two. He wasn’t doing much good, he knew. Two weeks ago the avengers had stopped an evil tank monster from leveling an entire city. That very same night, Spiderman had rescued two cats, one dog, and helped an old man carry groceries to an apartment on the fifth floor.

For the first time in his life, Peter had no goals. He aspired to nothing. He felt like nothing.

Peter couldn’t bring himself to return her hug. He didn’t even tell her he loved her as he slipped out the door, two hours early for school. 

Three hours later, Aunt May took her last breaths alone, crushed and cut up underneath the broken wood and glass of the china set that she loved so much. Peter was fast, but not fast enough for the organized firestrike going on above him. He had no eyes in the sky, no way of knowing what would go up next. No backup. His phone was smashed by some sort of robot twenty minutes ago and Peter couldn’t even call Aunt May and warn her.

Every television and news outlet covering the senseless tragedy was wondering ‘why’ as loudly as they could. Why was this happening now, when the Avengers were fighting it out in Berlin? Where was Spiderman? Eyewitnesses place the mysterious, fledgling hero swinging toward the west side of Queens before one of the mortars impacted him directly. Who can even survive something like that? 

The thing about super healing is that Peter didn’t die, even when he wanted to. Lying alone in a crater that used to be his favorite bakery, Peter was bloody but alright even though the building was rubble around him. There were several people crushed under the debri, but for once, Peter didn’t stop to help them over the ice in his veins.

Peter didn’t bother going back to check on May. He’d been high enough in the air to see the exact moment one of the blasts took out his entire block. 

The protocol in the aftermath was so similar to the first alien invasion that Peter staggered through it mechanically, eyes unfocused as strangers check him in and give him the PG version of his Aunt’s passing. He’s almost seventeen, so he was left alone while most of the adults turn their attention to the handful of small children who were safe at school while their parents died in their homes.

Peter stared at them and tried very hard not to see himself, five years old and terrified while a crusty old stranger tried to locate any next of kin.

“It’s my fault.” He sobbed to MJ later, relieved that at least she was still alive even though Ned wasn’t. He could see that she didn’t understand, but she let him lean on her anyway. He never told them that he was Spiderman. She didn’t  _ know _ that everyone had died because he couldn’t protect them. Peter felt broken, but at least this time Michelle had no sarcastic comments or eye rolling for him. She sat next to him until his tears subsided, pensive.

Then she told him that she was going to Washington to live with her grandparents. 

Peter closed his eyes and tried very hard to wait until he was alone to break down. He waited until the lights of the auditorium turned off, and he was alone in dark on his small cot with a thousand other sniffling orphans to finally let himself feel the loss of everyone he’d ever cared about. 

Oddly enough, he couldn’t feel a thing.

\-------------------------

They came for him three weeks later. 

By now, Queens looked shiny and new unless you knew exactly where to look to see signs of the dusty, broken down buildings that had been cleared out and replaced by structures that raised the property values so much that most of the old residents wouldn’t be able to live there anymore even if they were still alive.

It had Tony Stark written all over it. The papers said ‘anonymous benefactor’, but it was easy to pinpoint the one man in the city would had enough money to toss around like that. Tony Stark who probably hadn’t set foot in Queens since he walked out of his tiny apartment - who probably had no ties to the community at all before or after the incident.

Some people called it endearing, but Peter was disgusted. The man could write a check to solve all of his problems but he couldn’t even check in to see if he was alive. A small part of him wondered if Tony even remembered him, all alone at the Tower because several other Avengers had been deemed the world’s deadliest criminals.

In his frequent moments of weakness, Peter ached to reach out to Tony. He sat alone and imagined that there was one person in the world that could sympathize with how he was feeling. He had the power to help the people he loved and he’d lost them anyway. One day was all it took to wipe the slate clean, it was there in his interviews. In the way Iron Man doggedly fought off every attack by himself even when he wasn’t strong enough to do it alone.

When one of the many faceless workers informed Peter that he had a guest, he almost believed that it would be Tony Stark. Here and real and ready to help Peter like he should have done from the beginning. Here to apologize. Maybe if Tony had been in touch with Peter, he could have asked for his help. Peter didn’t have any resources, but Tony had funds and money and the trust of the government. They could have contained the damage.

It wasn’t Tony Stark, and Peter was just as relieved as he was disappointed. 

“Mr. Parker.” The tall, blonde man fixed him with steely blue eyes that flickered meaningfully towards the woman who lead him in until she turned and closed the door behind her. Peter could hear the rapid  _ thud, thud  _ of her heart and the way she swallowed hard and breathed shallowly through her nose. Peter had heard fear before. “We’ve been searching for you for a very long time.”

Rooted to the floor, Peter’s muscles locked as he stared, wide eyed and waiting for the punch. “Have you?” He tested his voice, but he sounded less strong and confident and more breathless and dizzy. The stranger was a head taller than he was, but he could literally rip his arms from his body and beat him with them...so he stood his ground. 

“What do you want me to do?” Peter asked, head tilted. His heart beat painfully in his chest, squeezing hard with every inhale because  _ finally. _ Someone had noticed him. They’d noticed him and they wanted him and at this point in his life, he’d take what he could get. Right now he had no materials. No way to make his webbing and no way to get his hands on another suit. 

“Nothing that would be too much trouble, I should think,” The man said in that completely guileless tone people only used when they were about to drop a bomb. Ugh, don’t think about bombs. Ever. “We’ll give you your creative space. Technology and resources the likes of which you have never seen.” 

It was condescending, but fair. Granted, Peter’s frame of reference began and ended with dumpster diving, but this guy clearly didn’t know that the bar was so low. “And, in return, you will make sure these...Avengers do not trouble our business.”

Peter was a genius, but this was the last thing he expected to hear. Dark eyes blew wide in open astonishment, his lips going slack as he let the words sink in.  _ Fight the Avengers _ ? Had he even heard that right? Clearly the stranger knew what he was talking about. He had it all in his folder, the one that Peter didn’t dare think about until he’d been wordlessly handed the files. He needed something to look at right now anyway. Something to distract.

It was all there, inside. The same sickening stills of video clips that Tony had presented him once, a lifetime ago. There was a piece of his webbing in a vial, along with the hastily scribbled notes of some engineer that had tried and failed to replicate Peter’s work. Months of notes on Spiderman. A picture of him out with Aunt May two weeks before she died. Casing him. 

“Yea... Yes, I,” He stammered, breathing rapidly through his nose as he passed the thing back. “I’ll do it. I want to.” 

The greasy man’s lips turned upward. “Well,” He started, sounding pleased in a way that would have once made Peter feel good. Instead he felt the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end like they always did when Peter made bad decisions. His reflexes were screaming at him to make a move, to cut the man with the sharp smile before he reached out and slit Peter’s throat. 

Peter shook his cold, clammy hand and tried not to shiver in disgust. In the past he’d been such a hugger, but he hadn’t so much as brushed shoulders with anyone since Michelle. “Welcome to Hydra, Mr. Parker.”

**Author's Note:**

> It begins!! I've psyched myself up way too much for Supervillain Peter because the world needs variety. 
> 
> Just as a reference though - Tony wasn't trying to be cruel when he turned Peter away. He was just trying to be The Responsible Adult™ and had no idea that it would backfire so spectacularly. He just wanted Peter to be a kid while he still had the chance
> 
> Except now he's created his very own rival Supervillain that just wants to take him down a notch or twenty and prove to himself and Tony that he was wrong to turn him away. 
> 
> Please leave comments and kudos if you enjoy this! It would be greatly appreciated & fuel me to get this out much faster. <333


End file.
